


Burn Finger One

by junko



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:05:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3918805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renji needs a job; Bazz-B owns a very unusual flower shop....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn Finger One

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Vaguely spoilery if you're not 100% caught up, since I imply/re-cast several current canon events.

It all started because Renji needed a job, stat.

When he woke up that morning, more than a little hung over, Kira and Shūhei stood over where he lay on the couch. Kira looked like he wanted to run away and hide; Shū had his arms crossed in front of his chest, as though he was holding off the urge to reach down and throttle Renji. 

“What?” Renji asked.

“Okay, here’s the deal, Abarai,” Shū said, his eyes hard. Renji could not believe that a guy as hardcore punk rock as Shūhei Hisagi managed to land a job at a local newspaper, but there he was, all dressed in his salaryman suit, despite the leather choker, spiky-ass hair and rude facial tattoos. “It’s been six months. The first couple, sure, we get it. You need to figure out how to land on your feet. But, we can’t keep covering the rent for half the year.”

Kira nodded, though he looked like all it would take was one sob story and he’d reconsider. 

Renji wondered if he had any left. He knew he’d been riding on his friends’ goodwill too long. They’d been Academy buddies together, and helped Renji survive the loss of his very best in whole world when Rukia had been offered a once in a lifetime opportunity to not just work for, but be adopted into the single most powerful business family in all of Japan. He got over that and things were looking good when he and Kira had been recruited out of university, which should have been a lifetime gig for Renji, but apparently attempting to punch the fucked-up creepy smile off some second in command’s face was not a good career plan.

Renji’d been kicking around a bunch of places since, hoping for some kind of advancement, but the only thing he’d ended up with was what amounted to a volunteer gig at the local kenjutsu dojo. The hours he put in there paid for his own training, but nothing else.

Renji started to open his mouth to promise, once again, to scour the papers for some work, any work, but Shūhei cut him off. Thrusting a paper into Renji’s face, Shū pointed to an advert circled in a bright red marker. “This looks perfect for you,” Shū said. “I already called. You have an interview in four hours.”

“What?” Which was apparently the only word Renji had at eight o’clock in the morning.

“Get showered. Go. You’ll make a perfect florist.”

“Florist? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Shūhei’s finger jabbed at the paper. “Read the words if you can, you moron. They specialize in ‘rock-‘n-roll designs.”

Renji scanned the tiny kanji, not sure his eyes were focused enough for the task, especially since that seemed to be exactly what it said. “Rock-‘n-roll flowers. What the fuck even is that?” Then his eyes scanned the rest of the ad, “What a minute, this isn’t even in Tokyo.”

Kira looked really guilty now.

“Oh,” Renji said. “Right. You’re kicking me out, too.”

“Six months, Renji,” Shūhei said. “It’s time to find somebody else’s couch to sleep on.”

#

Renji could not say he was in the best mood for a job interview. 

He spent the whole train ride calling everyone he ever knew trying to find someone who might put him up for a couple of nights. Of course, it was the guys from the dojo who ended up helping him out. Turns out the head instructor had a former student who’d promoted out and started his own dojo in Osaka, so Renji had the name and address for one “Tetsuzaemon Iba.” He’d left a message, dropping the Kenpachi’s and Ikkuku’s names as much as humanly possible. Now he had to hope for the best, because otherwise it was back to sleeping in the rough. Renji was pretty sure he’d lost most of those skills, though he already found himself sizing up doorways and alleys for their potential.

Fuck.

At least food wasn’t going to be too much of a problem. Osaka was known for its food trucks, and ganking a free meal from a street vendor was pathetically easy. He and Rukia had made it into an art, back in the day.

Shit, so much for his plan to some day impress her with how far he’d come. Looked like he was going to be back on the streets, instead.

After checking with the police box to confirm he was in the right neighborhood, Renji stood in front of the door to the “florist.” The place looked more like a warehouse than anything else and the held the tang of solder and heat. 

_Rock ‘n Roll florists, what the actual fuck?_

But, he’d arrived on time for the interview, so Renji was determined to give it the old college try. He even had his resume with him, which looked completely made up, even to him. Sure, buddy, with all that ink, sure you graduated summa cum laude from the National Defense Academy. Oh, and look here, you got court martialed and fired from the Ministry of Defense for punching out your boss and have done jack all since, outside of basically volunteering as a janitor at the oldest and most prestigious kenjutsu dojo. Okay, Mr. Abarai, you’re either the world’s biggest liar, or simultaneously the most over qualified, under qualified person in all of Japan.

Even though his shoulders sagged as he anticipated the worse, Renji rang the bell. He silently practiced not saying ‘fuck you’ when asked the inevitable, “So, do you have a problem with authority, Mr. Abarai?”

Thus, he was not at all prepared, when the steel door flung open to reveal a guy in a white leather jacket sporting a bright fuchsia Mohawk. 

Renji was expecting… well, he hated himself a little for the stereotyping in his head, but he was kind of expecting some flouncy, prissy poofter—you know, a _florist_. Renji supposed this guy could be gay. He had two earrings, after all: one a nut, the other a bolt. And who wore so much white leather? It was kind of obscene, and maybe a little sexy, especially with those ass-kicking boots.

“Whoa,” the Mohawked florist said, “Nice eyebrows!”

Renji felt himself blush and his hand rose automatically to brush across the ink. “You like my eyebrows?” 

No one ever liked his eyebrows, because they were part of the extremely ill conceived forehead tattoos that he’d gotten in a fit of drunken rage. He regretted the night he’d turned his whole face into a big fuck-you-I-could-care-less-about-my-court-martial symbol. The ink was, in fact, the number one reason Renji could not land even the simplest job waiting tables or working construction. He usually hid them as best he could under bandanas or sunglasses or even his hair, which he’d grown out to past his shoulders. Today, because of the job interview, he’d done his best with just his hair down.

“Rad,” the florist said with a nod. “C’mon in. You must be Renji Abarai. I’m Bartholomäus Bachmeier, but everybody calls me Bazz-B.”

As he stepped over the threshold, Renji realized why the air around the shop smelled so strongly like some kind of forge. The place was filled with all sorts of metal pipes that were being soldered and welded into various ikebana containers. Some of the “flowers” were even die-cast bronze. 

Rock-n-Roll floral arrangements, Renji nodded to himself: Right, because they were totally ‘Metal.’

“Who the hell is your clientele?” Renji blurted without thinking. 

“What?” Bazz-B asked, stopping to throw out his hands in an expansive gesture to indicate the whole workshop, “You don’t think grandma wants a steel bouquet?”

“Yeah, no,” Renji said. “I kind of don’t.”

“Well, you’d be right about that,” Bazz-B said. “But, we do fringe art shows and get patrons that way. There’s this one guy, crazy as a motherfucking loon, but he buys a shit ton of my work. So much that I got to hire you to be my assistant.”

“You’re going to hire me?” Renji asked, “Just like that?”

Bazz-B tugged his ear thoughtfully, while looking Renji up and down. He seemed disappointed to be called to task. He pulled over a metal three-legged stool and held out his hand. “Eh, I suppose I’d better look at the resume, huh?”

Renji handed it over nervously. He was a fucking idiot to have said anything. Apparently, he’d almost scored the job without trying. It wasn’t going to last after Bazz-B took a gander at the laundry list of his life’s biggest fuck-ups. 

As he waited to be shown the door, Renji looked around. The workshop was part of some old stone building. It was fairly spacious as such things went. There were dozens of machines and heavy equipment along the wall that Renji could only guess were probably metalworking lathes, drills, rivet guns, stamping presses, and gods knew what all else. The place was chaotic. Not messy, per se, but very haphazard.

Renji had to admit he was going to be kind of sad when this Bazz-B weirdo told him to sling his hook. The workshop place was pretty cool. The equipment looked like fun. Renji’d always kind of wanted to wear one of those welding masks. The place really was pretty damn metal.

“Yeah, sorry, mate, I can’t hire you,” Bazz-B said, handing Renji his resume back.

No surprise, but Renji always wanted to know, “How come?”

“Because kenjutsu, dude!” He was smiling as he slammed a palm into his chest, “It’s kyūdō or nothing, pal!”

“Fuck, archery? What kind of pansy ass shit is that!?” Renji protested.

“Says a guy who whacks people with a wooden stick!”

“Oi, that’s a bokken to you, you moron!”

“It’s a stick,” Bazz-B said, standing up and putting his hands on his hips. Renji’s resume was crumbled in his fist, clearly forgotten. “Not a real man’s weapon like the yumi.”

“At least I fucking do something, y’all just stand around all day getting Zen.”

“Like I said, a real man’s sport,” Bazz-B nodded.

“It’s a sissy sport is what it is,” Renji snorted.

“Sissy? Who you calling ‘sissy’? Get the fuck out of my shop right now,” Bazz-B shouted suddenly turning serious. His face grew red and he gave Renji a hard shove. As the door slammed, Renji heard an irritated, “And to think I complimented your eyebrows!”

#

Renji stared at the closed door for a long time, mentally kicking himself. There wasn’t much to do about it now though. He could apologize, but, well, the guy said he wasn’t going to hire him anyway, right?

Right.

Renji retrieved his duffle from where he’d stowed it behind a dumpster. He shouldered it and glanced back at the steel door. He’d kind of thought he and rooster-head were getting along, albeit in a yelling sort of way, until Bazz-B had gotten all huffy over the girly comment.

_Shit. ‘Sissy.’ You don’t suppose…?_

Of course there was no way Bazz-B could’ve known Renji didn’t mean it that way. It wasn’t like his resume spelled it out: Renji Abarai, Homo.

Well, bisexual. But whatever.

There were reasons Shū was so convinced Renji’d make a good ‘florist.’ You drunkenly give a guy a blowjob one time and he got all weird and started talking really loudly about all the nosebleeds he got over his Ms. Rangiku. 

Bastard.

#

At least, Iba had a place for him. Renji’d literally be sleeping with the dogs, but, hey, a bed was a bed. 

“You’re lucky,” Iba said as he handed Renji the key to the kennel. The kennel was little more than a shed, but it had electricity, air-conditioning, and didn’t smell nearly as bad as it could. “The guy who usually takes care of the captain and his squad seems to have skipped town. I’ve been doing all right on my own, but I’d rather have someone close by and the dojo keeps me out all hours. They’re worth a fortune you know. Award winning sled dogs.”

“Sure,” Renji said, trying to act interested. He’d already heard most of this twice. Iba really had a thing for his ‘captain,’ a massive, friendly Husky whose name over his kennel actually read ‘Komamura.’ 

Renji was pretty sure that what really kept Iba out ‘all hours’ was some kind of side gig with the yakuza. Iba had that look: all beefy and wearing sunglasses, even at night. Plus, he had a pretty swank place. It was outside of town in the ‘burbs. There were sliding rice-paper doors and a koi pond. Not to mention this freestanding building just for dogs and their minder.

And it would explain why the other guy lost bottle and fled.

“I’m trusting you, right?” Iba asked, suspiciously. “On the Kenpachi’s reputation.”

“Yeah, I’m good for it,” Renji reassured him. He knew how to stay on ‘the Good Neighbors’ side from his time with Rukia, back before Academy. He could deal with whatever Iba was up to by doing his damnest to ignore it. “All I got to do is let the dogs out to pee at night and not let ‘em jump the wall.”

“Basically, yes,” Iba agreed. “Though if you’re not starting that new job of yours for a few days, I could use a hand with feeding and grooming.”

“Sure, why not?” Renji said with an internal sigh. From volunteer janitor work to dog grooming, he wasn’t sure if that was a step up or a step down. “I ain’t likely going to be doing much else.”

“Interview didn’t go so well?” Iba asked kindly.

“Not so much, no,” Renji admitted. “Probably shouldn’t have called the guy a ‘sissy’’ when I only just met him.”

Iba laughed and shook his head. “Luckily, the captain doesn’t care what you call ‘im so long as it’s not late to dinner.”

Oh, yeah, and always laugh at their lame jokes. “Ha,” Renji agreed. “I get it. Late for dinner. That’s hilarious.”

#

At two o’clock in the morning, using a plastic baggie to scoop up a huge pile of still steaming shit from Iba’s manicured garden, Renji decided this was definitely a step down.

But, what could he do? Anyways, it seemed kind of fitting: a stray dog like himself, taking care of dogs.

“Aw, fuck, who am I kidding?” Renji muttered, glancing up at the moon. “This sucks rocks.”

So maybe that was why, after a trip to the 24-hour convenience store to boost a six-pack, Renji drank the whole thing in one sitting. Then he dug out the advertisement from his duffle and drunk texted the florist: “Your Mohawkian hairstyle is fucking majestic.”

And then, a series of others:

“Even if you do look like a rooster.”

“Sorry for sissy thing.”

“Im gay 2.”

“Bi.”

“But ur still hot.”

“Ur flowers are weird but awesome...”

“...like you.”

#

Renji woke to a dog licking his face and the sound of his cell phone beeping with an incoming text. He’d passed out on the floor, having completely forgotten to put the ‘captain’ back in his kennel. Apparently, the two of them had snuggled together all night. Shaking himself off, Renji dug the phone from his jeans’ pocket.

He was horrified to see it was from the floral shop. Komamura continued to lick his face, having moved to his ear now that Renji was sitting up.

“What do you think, Captain? Should I open it?”

Komamura barked. That sounded enough like a ‘yes’ to Renji that, with a wince of trepidation, he hit the go-button.

The text read: “Idiot. If you can come in by ten, the job is yours.”

#

Renji almost didn’t make it. 

He’d had to track down Iba at his dojo to let him know that while he could still do the night shift with the dogs, he had a chance at the job… and maybe with the guy, but, well, the job seemed like a sure thing, at least. 

It had turned out Iba’s dojo was half way across town and in the other direction from the florist. On the other hand, Iba seemed okay with this new development and told Renji he could stay on in the evenings and keep the bed for as long as he needed, since that was what he’d signed on for, anyway.

Even if he was mafia—because, seriously? “Men’s Association” had to be a front--Iba was a good guy. Renji was growing fond of Captain Komamura, too.

With all that dashing around an unfamiliar town, it was one minute past the hour when Renji finally made the door. He’d run all the way from the train station and he was pretty sure his sweat smelled of beer. Nevermind he was in the exact same clothes he had on yesterday, not having taken the time to do anything more than put Komamura away properly, tidy up the place a bit, and zip out the door. He was covered in dog fur, too.

Not his best look.

When Bazz-B didn’t answer the door right away, Renji thought maybe he’d blown it by a mere minute. This time, however, he was going to fight for a second—okay, technically third—chance, so he pushed the door open with a, “Hey, sorry, man, I took the wrong train…”

Renji’s words trailed off, because, for the second time in his life, Renji was certain he’d interrupted something really important. Bazz-B was talking to two guys. Well, really he was talking to one, a blond with super-long, fabulous hair. The other guy was a broad-shouldered galoot, who wandered around the shop picking things up, inspecting them, and putting them down like they’d disappointed him somehow. Renji instantly disliked the bulky guy. He looked like some kind of thug, too, with that bushy lip hair and fancy trench coat that seemed to flair out behind him like a cape.

Slipping through the door, Renji closed it quietly. He leaned his back against the wall and pretended to be very absorbed in picking dog hair off his black shirt. The mustachioed thug was bigger than he was, but Kenpachi always made sure his people knew a bit of Judo and other hand-to-hand stuff. Renji was pretty sure he could lay the guy down, if necessary. Pretty boy he’d leave to Bazz-B.

So long as no one was packing, of course.

The interaction had the vibe of a shake down, but Bazz-B seemed pretty relaxed. He didn’t seem bugged at all by Mustache’s weird inspection of his stuff. He just kept chatting away with Blondie, who has some kind of impossible-to-pronounce German surname that Renji instantly forgot the moment he heard it.

A few minutes and some silent signal later, Mustache was headed for the door with Blondie trailing after like the perfect image of a mob kumicho and his saiko komon. Just in case that was exactly what they were, Renji bowed as they approached and opened the door for them. He got a nod of approval from Blondie for his efforts.

When they were gone, Renji turned to Bazz-B. “Friends of yours?”

“I know Jugram Haschwalth from kyūdō,” Bazz-B said with a shrug. “The other guy is his boss, Juha Bach, one of my biggest buyers.”

Renji lifted his eyebrow at the door, curious. “The big mustached guy likes metal flowers?”

“Hey, takes all kinds,” Bazz-B said, “Anyways, what do I care? He’s the reason I have this place at all. He throws a lot of money at me. A lot. What, you want me not to catch it?”

These ‘friends’ of Bazz-B’s still seemed fishy as hell to Renji, but it wasn’t any of his business. “Right, so what do you want me to do?”

Bazz-B smiled. It was devastatingly hot. “C’mere, I want to teach you how to work some of this shit.”

“Sounds great,” Renji said, but really he was thinking: whatever you want, I’m there.

# 

Things settled into a kind of rhythm after that. Days passed with Renji leaning in way too close, trying to catch the smell of Bazz-B, Bazz-B’s hands guiding him through the workings of various machines, leather getting shucked the hotter things got in the workshop, a lot of muscles gleaming with sweat, and Renji trying not to get a massive hard-on all day long as their bodies grazed each other’s in various ways.

Then, nights spent with the dogs, fantasizing about a crazy-ass shithead with a Mohawk and a damn near perfectly cut body. 

It was a rhythm, all right, albeit a tortuous one. 

But these days, at least, Renji found himself smiling in the middle of the night while picking up dog shit. He couldn’t remember ever having fallen so hard into… lust? Renji wasn’t even quite sure what it was, because half the time Bazz-B drove Renji nuts. The other half of the time he wanted to fuck him.

Hard.

Up against the wall.

Nah, that wasn’t half the time. That was all the time.

It was making him a little crazy, too. Like, maybe he ought to see if Iba could let him do a deal to get a membership into that kenjutsu dojo he was running here so Renji could work off a little excess… heat.

One of the dogs barked, a single yip. They’d been standing outside too long. It was time to go back in where it was warm and cozy. Renji turned to give the moon another glance. If only he could be sure Bazz-B felt the same.

#

Renji knew something was wrong when he saw the big black limo pulling away from the workshop.

Heart in his throat, he ran the half block, pushing early morning commuters out of his way. If those yakuza thugs hurt Bazz-B, Renji’d fucking kill them…. 

He nearly wrenched his arm out of its socket pulling on the locked door. Locked? The fuck? They’d locked the door when they left? 

Renji pounded his fists on the door. “Bazz-B? You okay in there!? Open up!”

No answer.

Shit.

Renji ran to the back alley. There was a window there that they always kept propped open. A cheap air-conditioner was wedged in it, but Renji had helped install that piece of crap. He knew all it would take was a hard shove or two to dislodge it. Climbing on to the dumpster, Renji gave the a/c unit a heave. Then another. But, the third, increasingly furious and desperate shove was the one that did it. It crashed through so noisily that someone shouted they were calling the cops.

“Call 119!” He yelled back, because fuck the police, they might need an ambulance.

Wedging himself shoulders-first through the narrow window ended with a lot of swearing, a few scrapes, and a stupid-ass, painful tumble onto a drill press, but he was inside.

“Bazz-B?”

The place was tossed. Bazz-B wasn’t exactly meticulous, but everything had its general place. Not any more. Scrap metal was all over the floor. Tools looked like they’d been thrown across the room. Half the machines had been knocked over, some of them busted up.

“Where are you, man? You okay?”

There was a groan. 

Turning his head in the direction of the noise, the first thing Renji spotted was that ridiculously awesome Mohawk—just the tip of it, behind the toppled die-caster. Renji scrambled as fast as he could over the debris. 

“Shit,” Renji said, kneeling down to take a good look. Bazz-B was laid out flat, face down, arms sprawled, but otherwise he didn’t seem hurt. His knuckles looked raw, like maybe he’d been pounding the floor or someone’s face, but there was no other blood Renji could see. Still, he was scuffed up bad. There’d been a fight for sure. “Shit.”

“That fucking bastard,” Bazz-B said, his voice wavering between choking anger and a sob. “He took everything. Then he said he was pulling out. Completely. One hundred percent. Apparently, there’s some new punk ass talent he’s interested in and he don’t need me no more.” Bazz-B looked up at Renji. “That’s it for me, Renji. Without Bach’s money, I got nothing. All my clients come from him, too. What the fuck am I going to do?”

Renji sat down on the floor, hard, overwhelmed with relief that Bazz-B didn’t seem to be mortally injured. “I don’t know,” Renji said. He really wanted to stroke Bazz-B’s face, but… So, instead, he busied his hands with picking up bits of metal sheeting and stacking them in a neat pile. I got some friends,” Renji offered. “Maybe some of them’d want your weird-ass flowers.”

Bazz-B laughed a kind of sad, defeated chuckle. “You don’t know anybody rich, do you?”

Renji thought about it for a second. “Actually, I do. Astronomically rich.”

“Yeah?” 

“You ever heard of the Kuchiki family?”

Bazz-B snorted. “You are so full of shit, Renji Abarai. No way you know any of them.”

“Yeah, well, I probably don’t know Rukia any more, but we used to be best friends. Hell, if she’s a dead end, there’s Kira’s new fellow. That Rose guy thinks he some kind of patron of the arts,” Renji said, still thinking out loud. Bazz-B winced as he tried to pull himself up, so Renji reached out to steady him. “Hey, let’s not worry about that right now. Let me help you up. I’ll get you home.”

By the time Renji got him on his feet, Bazz-B was already raging. “Fuck that guy, anyway. Fuck him with fuck sauce. I don’t need him.”

Renji grunted his assent because he never liked Mustache guy much anyway, and automatically ran his hands over Bazz-B checking for injuries. The way Bazz-B winced Renji figured there had to be some serious bruising around his ribs and abs. “We need to get your clothes off. Is your place far?”

“You… you want to get my clothes off?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Renji snapped. “I mean to check for injuries, you big stupid fuck.”

“Oh, right.” Then, Bazz-B winked at him, “Sure that’s all you want. I read your texts.”

Renji blushed. “Dude, you were just beat up. Are you seriously thinking about sex right now?”

“I was totally in charge of that fight!” Bazz-B said as they made it to the door. He pushed himself out from under Renji’s supportive arm, only to stumble back into it a second later. “If it’d been a fair fight, I’d have won that.” Renji was nodding ‘sure, sure, you would have, because yakuza shitheads always fight fair,’ when he heard Bazz-B mumble, “And I always think about sex with you. If you’re saying you don’t, you’re a liar.”

Their gaze met. Renji knew he was looking at Bazz-B with hopeful need. It was returned with something hot at smoldering in the amber depths of Bazz-B’s eyes. “All the fucking time,” Renji said with a serious nod. “Which way to your place?”

“That way, two blocks,” Bazz-B shouted. “I’ll race you.”

“What? Race? Are you kidding me? In your state?”

Bazz-B was already gone, half-running, half-limping down the block at top speed.

Renji took off after him yelling, “You’re a crazy, motherfucker, you know that?”

“Heh,” Bazz-B looked back over his shoulder, nailing Renji with one of those heart-stopping grins, and called, “You like it.”

“Yeah,” Renji said mostly to himself as he ran. “I kind of do.”

#

The stumble into the apartment’s front door was a frantic jangling of keys and hysterical laughter as Bazz-B fumbled the first try. By the time they hit the elevator, they were already ripping each other’s clothes off. Renji got his hands up under that white leather jacket, to finally get a feel of those broad shoulders and biceps he’d been fantasizing about. He worked the jacket off and it fell to the floor with a jangle. Renji’s mouth was on Bazz-B’s, pushing him toward the wall, only to get heaved in the other direction as Bazz-B asserted his dominance and wrenched open the buckle of Renji’s belt.

Heh. This was going to be fun.

When the floor bell dinged and it didn’t seem like Bazz-B was going to stop, Renji bit down on Bazz-B’s lip.

“Ow! What the fuck, you moron!” Bazz-B shouted. Then, he looked chagrined as he realized an old lady was gaping at them as the doors opened.

“Grab your jacket,” Renji said, shouldering his way out passed the grandma, “Because I don’t know which room is yours.”

Bazz-B scooped up his leather jacket, and grabbed Renji’s hand. He dragged them down the ubiquitous brown-carpeted floor to a room with a letter instead of a number on it. It read: “H.” Underneath the letter, Bazz-B had hung a metal sign that read, “The Heat.”

“You’re a dork,” Renji noted.

“Fuck off, and get in there,” Bazz-B said, though he was smiling. “I’m going to ravish you.”

“Ravish? What are you, a thousand years old?” Renji protested, “What’s going to happen is that I’m going to fuck you six ways from Sunday.”

“In your dreams, meathead,” Bazz-B smiled, as he gave Renji a hard push that sent him stumbling back into the darkened room. 

Bazz-B’s mouth was on his again and his fists curled into Renji’s undershirt, pushing him backwards until they both went sprawling onto something soft… a couch? Whatever it was, it took Renji’s legs right out from under him. 

Swept off his feet. Heh.

It felt amazing to have Bazz-B’s weight on him, pressing him deep into the cushions. Mouth, hot and hungry seemed determined to devour him. Renji’s arms reached up to run up the length of shaved, smooth scalp to fondle the stiff hairs of the Mohawk. It felt just as cool as it looked.

Bazz-B grunted against Renji’s teeth, and pulled out of their kiss. “Don’t mess with the ‘do, man.”

“Fine, but then you can’t pull my hair neither,” Renji grumped, enjoying the view as Bazz-B sat up to pull his shirt over his head. Even in the dim light of the darkened apartment, Renji could see the hard lines of muscle and sinew. Six-pack abs and broad shoulders—fuck, Bazz-B was built just like Renji liked ‘em.

If those nipples meant anything Bazz-B was pretty happy to see him, too. Renji reached up and ran a calloused edge of his thumb against the sensitive skin, making Bazz-B yelp. 

Then, Bazz-B’s hands were under Renji’s shirt inching it upwards. His eyes looked hopeful and then he smiled brightly, “Ah, I was hoping you had more ink.”

It amazed Renji that he’d never managed to take his shirt all the way off the whole time they’d been working together over the past several days, because, honestly, that was his number one way of flirting: getting half-naked. It was surprising how often it worked.

Renji let himself be stripped. He wiggled a bit to help get the undershirt over his head. Then, he laid back and let Bazz-B’s hands explore his shoulders, chest and arms, as he reached over to undo Bazz-B’s jeans. Buttons. Figured this metal obsessed doof would take rivets over a far-more convenient zipper. But, when he finally worked them open, Renji had to stop for a second and laugh. “Fucking charmander? You have Pokémon underwear?”

“What of it, big guy? Let’s see yours.”

Oh shit, what had Renji put on this morning?

“Um…” But, it was too late to protest, because zippers made faster work, and Bazz-B had Renji’s pants down to his knees already. “You fucking traitor,” Bazz-B joked staring at Renji’s crotch. “Not only is that Digimon, but you’re wearing Etemon!”

“Villain,” Renji said with a proud nod and a ‘check it out’ wave of his hand down his body. “Plus, he’s totally my spirit animal with those cool sunglasses.”

“You are really fucking sad,” Bazz-B said with a shake of his head.

“Says the guy wearing a starter Pokémon,” Renji pointed out. “Not even its evolved form.”

Bazz-B’s answer was to bury his face in Renji’s underwear. To be fair, Renji’d had a hard on since the elevator and all this staring at each other’s crotches had only made things more… intense. And now Bazz-B’s mouth was sucking him through the cotton. Renji jerked himself into a more upright position, leaning on his elbows, “Oi, you’re gonna wreck my favorite undies!”

The glance Bazz-B gave Renji was pure wickedness. He lifted his mouth long enough to say, “That’s the point! I’m going destroy these things.”

“Ungh,” was Renji’s only substantive complaint because it felt strangely awesome to have increasingly wet, rough cotton between them. It was really a shame he couldn’t play with the stiff fuchsia hair because the tip of it was tickling his belly button like crazy. Renji’s hand dug into cushions instead. Bazz-B had wrapped his strong arms under Renji’s ass in a kind of obscene bear hug. The Charmander underwear was doing a sexy as sin dance in the air as he put his whole body into ‘ravishing.’ 

Bazz-B’s mouth and tongue did something that made Renji shudder. He wanted to howl, but he bit his lip and grunted out a moan.

Yeah, okay, ravished. Renji was starting to feel like maybe that was the right word after all.

“Fuck,” Renji said through clenched teeth, because it was going to be super-awkward if he came before he even got all the way naked. 

That really did seem to be Bazz-B’s goal. The hands wrapped around Renji were kneading his ass in rhythm to the attention his cock was getting. 

Renji shifted so he didn’t have to support himself on his elbows. Since hair was off limits, Renji grabbed for shoulders and dug in. They were amazingly broad and so well toned from all the physical work Bazz-B did—the stupid archery, too, no doubt. Renji leaned his head back and thrust up into Bazz-B. Skin flushed. His breath came in heaving pants. Bazz-B made a noise like a growl or a purr against Renji’s hard, aroused cock. The wet cotton was starting to feel in the way, but Renji was losing his ability to communicate beyond groans and moans and shuddering grunts. 

Yeah, fuck, he was going to come without even taking his damn underwear off.  
A mighty thrust and the very tip of Renji’s cock managed to get free of the sodden mess. Between the sudden cold air and Bazz-B’s tongue, Renji lost it. Cum shot out, not only spattering Bazz-B’s face, but his Mohawk as well.

“Oh, dude,” Renji said in apology. “Oh, shit.”

“Oh, you’ll pay for that.”

Was it bad that Renji smiled at the thought of what ‘payment’ might involve?

Bazz-B crawled up Renji’s body. As he did, he yanked the Charmander underwear down to expose his rampant cock. It was gorgeous and Renji would have spent more time admiring it, but his eyes were drawn to the thick thatch of… hot pink. “You dyed your pubes?”

“I believe in completeness,” Bazz-B said as his knees came down around Renji’s chest. “Now suck this.”

Renji rolled his eyes at the macho posturing, but he grabbed the back of Bazz-B’s thighs and directed him down. Now that his legs were free, Renji kicked off the last bit of his jeans and worked off his sodden underwear. At the same time, he set to exploring the length of Bazz-B with his mouth and tongue. Every time he caught sight of that shock of dyed hair, though, Renji started to chuckle.

“I ain’t used to people laughing at my dick,” Bazz-B snarled.

“Your dick is awesome,” Renji said, giving the tip a little flirtatious lick. “It’s the hair I can’t get over.”

“Well, maybe I should turn you around, so you don’t have to see it!” Bazz-B suggested.

It’d been a long time since Renji’d been fucked, but the idea stirred something deep within him. “You got a condom? Lube?”

“D’uh,” Bazz-B said, and, after awkwardly fishing through the pockets of his jeans that were mostly down by his ankles, he produced both.

“Heh,” Renji gave Bazz-B a wolfish smile, “You’re like some kind of perverted Boy Scout.”

Bazz-B looked proud of himself and that made Renji smile. They quickly shed the rest of their clothes. Couch springs protested and the blind toss of Renji’s jeans knocked something over in the darkness with a heavy thunk. The ruined, wet underwear went on the floor in a sodden gross mess. 

Body parts knocked together, as the two of them struggled to stay on the couch. They were both big guys. Eventually Bazz-B manhandled Renji into position, which seemed to involve one of Renji’s knees precariously balanced on a nearby coffee table. 

Grabbing the arm of the couch, Renji figured he should brace himself. Bazz-B seemed like a ‘wham, bam’ kind of guy, but then all of a sudden there were calloused hands lightly stroking Renji’s back, tracing muscle and tattoos. 

“The twin lightning strikes are super cool!” Bazz-B said with obvious admiration, making Renji blush. Instead of instantly going for it, Renji felt a kiss on his ass, which was weirdly sweet. “I kind of like to play around back here,” Bazz-B admitted shyly. “You know, with my fingers and stuff. Is that cool?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Renji strained to see Bazz-B’s expression in the dimness. There was just enough ambient light to see how much he looked like a kid in a candy store. Renji was pretty sure no one had ever looked at his ass with that kind of anticipation before. “Yeah, go for it,” Renji said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in this position, if you know what I mean.”

Bazz-B glanced up and nodded. His face was so red it nearly matched Renji’s hair. He could only hold Renji’s gaze for a moment before glancing away bashfully. “Yeah, well, maybe I can return the favor sometime.”

My gods, could this be more awesome? Renji had never met another switch before. “Cool,” he managed through his mounting excitement.

Renji turned back around, expecting to feel the cool slide of lube. Instead the finger that rubbed along the edges of Renji’s asshole was… hot. Whoa! Was there something in the lube? Whatever it was it felt tingly and burned—albeit, not entirely unpleasantly. He started to sweat. When Bazz-B gently penetrated to the first knuckle, Renji moaned. Bazz-B really did seem to like to play around, the finger probing, twirling a little, and pushing slowly deeper. 

The heat deepened and spread. The sensation was painful, but arousing in a way that caused Renji’s cock to twitch in excitement, coming back to life. Bazz-B’s other hand had a firm grip on Renji’s hip, holding him steady, which was good because Renji couldn’t contain the desire to thrust back into the finger. The burning felt like it danced over Renji’s whole skin, and he was panting again and encouraging Bazz-B with, “Oh, fuck, god, yes, that feels so good, so… hot.”

“Burn finger one,” Bazz-B purred. The hand that had been on Renji’s hip, slid up Renji’s side, along stomach, ribs, and chest. Suddenly the hot sensation was being rubbed into his nipples—first one and then the other. Bazz-B hugged Renji’s body close, one finger working his hole, the other playing with his nipples. His whole body on fire, hypersensitive, Renji could feel soft kisses on his back, the light graze of Bazz-B’s cock against his thighs, the tickle of stiff Mohawk hairs on his skin. 

Renji almost sobbed when Bazz-B’s finger slipped out, but gasped when a second finger stretched him. Bazz-B’s other hand left Renji’s nipples—still cold/hot from the tingling lube—to surround Renji’s cock. The residual lube burned along Renji’s length, which was hard and stiff as if this were the first time around. He couldn’t control the noises he was making now. Head lifting and back arching, he groaned like a beast and whimpered like a baby. “Oh, gods, fuck me. Fuck me,” he begged.

Bazz-B just laughed darkly. Two fingers slipped out, to be replaced by three. Renji felt himself tightly stretching to accommodate, but the heat of the lube overwhelmed any pain. His cock dripped. He could feel Bazz-B’s doing the same against his thigh. Renji didn’t know how Bazz-B could stand the delay, but he continued to kiss Renji’s back while using his hands in the most amazing way, the heat making everything ache twenty thousand times more. Renji bellowed and moaned, begging for more.

He probably should have specified cock, because Renji did get more… more fingers. Stretched so wide now, he thought he couldn’t take it. The pain and the pleasure seared through him. 

Luckily, Bazz-B seemed at his limit, too. His hands leaving Renji’s asshole and cock, he shifted into position. Renji heard the sound of the condom package tearing and then Bazz-B swearing as got it on quickly. After all the stretching, Renji’s ass seemed to welcome Bazz-B’s cock. Lubed and slick it slipped in deep, their skin slapping together. Renji pushed back into each thrust , deep spikes of pleasure bringing sharp cries to his lips. He reached down, grabbing his own cock and stroking himself off as Bazz-B rocked inside him. 

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” Bazz-B shouted, his hands clamping hard on Renji's hips. “So. Hot. So. Sexy. Your ass is so tight. I want to fuck you forever.”

Renji didn’t quite know why, but that ‘forever’ was what pushed him over the edge. Maybe it wasn’t that word, because, at the same time, Bazz-B yelled that he was coming, just as Renji shuddered and spilled over his hand for a second time.

They collapsed in a panting, satisfied heap. Bazz-B disengaged, expertly taking care of the used condom and tossing it into a nearby wastebasket. The couch might have been used this way before, Renji thought with a smile. Bazz-B dragged an afghan off the back of the couch and snuggled up behind Renji. “What do you say to a quick nap and a shower?”

With Bazz-B’s arms around his waist hugging him tight and close, Renji could already feel himself drifting pleasantly off to sleep. “The Heat,” he chuckled. “I’ll say you lived up to that.”

“I probably should have warned you,” Bazz-B said, nibbling on Renji’s ear. 

“I probably should have guessed,” he smiled, bringing one of Bazz-B’s hands up to his lips. The lube tingled along his mouth as he kissed rough knuckles. Taking one of Bazz-B’s fingers into his mouth, he sucked on it, tasting the cayenne or whatever spice was in the lube. “Anyways, it was a good surprise. You were a surprise from the start. A good surprise.”

“You, too,” Bazz-B grunted happily. He continued to kiss Renji’s ears and neck until they fell asleep, cuddled on the couch.

#

The light of the morning had Renji briefly wondering where he was. The arms around him reminded him: Bazz-B. He smiled and was just about to close his eyes and drift back off to sleep, when his cell phone trilled again. Shit, someone was actually trying to call him? Who the fuck would that be? Then he remembered: he never went back to Iba’s last night. Fuck, no one had taken care of the dogs. He bolted upright, frantically trying to find his pants. Bazz-B blinked his eyes open, irritated, his Mohawk askew, but surprisingly still mostly in place.

“What the fuck?” he asked.

“My phone!” Finding it, Renji slid it open. It was Iba, who started in the second after Renji answered. Renji winced through the tirade, hoping like fuck that Iba wasn’t the type to fire a guy for his first offense. To his surprise Renji found himself saying, “Yeah, of course, I’ll clean up everything. You’re not going to fire me?”

“Just get your ass back here and do a good job,” Iba snarled and hung up.

“You work for someone else?” Bazz-B asked pulling the blanket around himself. Bazz-B’s apartment was a lot like his workshop. It wasn’t exactly tidy, but the clutter had a cozy, lived-in feel. There were metalworking tools here, too, as well as several amazing flower arrangements. A metal sculpture took up an entire wall and had rivulets of water running down it, like a kind of indoor waterfall. The furniture was clearly second-hand, but it had all been carefully and lovingly restored. 

Once Bazz-B shifted his legs, Renji set his phone down on the coffee table—metal and glass, no surprise—and leaned back into the couch. “It’s not a paying job," Renji explained, still kind of amazed at his luck at not getting fired. “I just take care of some stuff for a guy so I can have a place to sleep.”

Bazz-B nodded thoughtfully. Then he gave Renji a crooked smile, “Wanna shower together before you go?”

Renji laughed. “I thought you’d never ask.”

#

The water ran cold by the time they were done kissing and running soapy hands all over each other. The whole time Bazz-B made constant complimentary noises and comments… until they washed private bits at which he sneered at Renji’s pubic hair and said, “No way that’s natural.”

“Way,” Renji said proudly. Pointing to his hair, “Just like this.”

Bazz-B looked grumpy for a moment, the water having flatted his Mohawk into a shoulder-length hot pink cascade. Then he said, “Fuck you. Your hair is gorgeous.”

“Heh,” Renji smiled, pulling him in for a last kiss, despite the chilly water, “You’re the one with the amazing hair.”

“No, you are,” Bazz-B insisted.

“No, you are.” Renji countered, running his fingers through it since it was already down.

“Oh gods, we’re going to be gross lovey-dovey like this aren’t we,” Bazz-B said. 

“Probably,” Renji mused happily, switching off the water.

#

Renji left several messages with Rukia. He wasn’t entirely hopeful she’d respond and he told Bazz-B that as Bazz-B fried them up a big breakfast of eggs and sausages and hash browns. “I’m going to try Kira’s fellow, too,” Renji added.

“You don’t have to work this hard for me,” Bazz-B replied, putting a piled-high plate in front of Renji.

“Sure I do,” Renji said, grabbing one of the pieces of toast as it popped up. “You know, even if last night hadn’t happened, I’d still want to help you out. I can’t believe that guy.”

“Bach,” Bazz-B frowned. 

In the shower, Renji had seen the bruises. They weren’t bad, but the purpled marks made Renji angry all over again. “I kind of want to kill him.”

Bazz-B smiled. “Living well is the best revenge.”

“If you say so,” Renji said.

#

Rukia surprised Renji by not only coming to check out the shop, but by bringing along that insanely rich brother of hers. Bazz-B fussed around, showing off his best pieces. Rukia asked all sorts of questions about his business, while her brother looked faintly baffled by the whole thing. But in the end, the Kuchiki family became an official sponsor.

Renji managed to sneak in a quick hug and a whispered thank you to Rukia, as they left. She'd punched him and told him not to be a moron, so he guessed they were good again.

Watching them go, Bazz-B said, “Well, I guess I’ve got myself a new team, as it were.”

Renji threw his arm around Bazz-B and kissed him soundly. “Ain’t so bad, is it?”

Bazz-B smiled. “Nah, it’s good… really good.”

Even though he knew it might not necessarily last forever, Renji had a feeling like maybe, finally, he had a place that could be a home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Josey for her beta-ing and typo-spotting. I also have to thank the person on Tumblr (whose note I've since lost, otherwise I would name them here) who BEGGED me for more Bazz-B/Renji.


End file.
